An Audition SeXStoRY

A trust game? Claire rolled her eyes at Dan. He replied with an enigmatic smirk. This was supposed to be the great inner circle acting community? Really? The longer she spent in this place, the lamer it felt. Certainly, though, it had to be said that it had worked for him. Three months ago Dan had been in the same place as her: talented, ambitious and exhaustively persistent, but constantly frustrated when it came to getting the roles they went after. Then, out of the blue, he'd got a major role in the new Pinter season and a bit part in a TV soap. She'd threatened him with v******e, blackmail and excommunication until he promised to let her in on how he managed it. So here they were. In the living room of someone's large west end flat with an odd assortment of people, some older, some younger, several very attractive, and one or two vaguely familiar, the way people are when you recognise them from TV. The spokesman, supposedly a producer called Graham, was one of those. He was a well built guy in maybe his mid forties, with a shorn head, sparky blue eyes and a devilish smile. His shirt was loose, unbuttoned at the bottom and his combats rode on his hips, rewarding Claire with a glimpse of tanned and lightly haired belly. Lame as this thing might turn out to be, it had some advantages. Graham nodded to a girl called Amelia, who went round the windows, drawing the curtains. "Everyone find a space on the floor please." The assembly did so, pushing furniture back a little where more room was required. Even so, it wasn't a huge room; everyone was pretty close together. Graham sat cross-legged facing Claire, and repeated: "A trust game. All actors need to trust one another, and in this group we have secrets that we need to be sure won't be repeated to anyone else." The smile dropped from his lips for one serious second. "You have to do this if you want to join us. Are you willing to proceed?" Claire almost laughed. But then she thought about Dan's sudden success. What did she really have to lose? "Yeah, sure," she said. Graham nodded to Amelia who had completed her round of the curtains and now stood waiting at the door. She switched the light off and plunged the room into darkness. "All you need to do, Claire," she heard him say, "is join in..." Join in with what? Claire thought as she felt someone - Amelia she supposed - step over her and settle in the space on the other side of her from Dan. No answer was immediately apparent. Just the dark room, and silence. No, not quite silence. She began to make out a light sound which she identified as the soft movement of fabric. She listened harder, and the sound intensified, coming from multiple sources. Some faster, some slower. What were they doing? Someone caught their breath. Someone moaned. Someone, unmistakably, undid a zip. Claire couldn't believe that everyone around her was touching themselves up, but now the idea was planted she couldn't keep her imagination from filling in the blanks. A rustle of heavy cotton could be Graham shrugging his combats to his ankles, sitting right in front her, stroking his erect cock. The grunt to her left would be Dan doing the same. The soft snap of elastic to her right, Amelia slipping her hand inside her pants. And there was the dewy wetness as her fingers stirred her cunt juices. From all round the room came the sounds of people settling into a masturbatory rhythm. It was unmistakable. Arousal washed through Claire's body. She'd never been in a situation like this, with strangers, with Dan, who she liked as a mate, but had never thought of sexually before. And yet here he was - if she'd gauged the sounds right - now kneeling and rubbing his cock, inches away from her head, with long slow strokes, each punctuated by a soft grunt. And they wanted her to join in? Hell of a trust game! She couldn't do it. She wasn't naturally prudish, but she didn't know any of these people... She brushed the heel of her hand across her breast. The sensation across her nipple sent a ripple through her, begged her to do it again, so she did, she couldn't help it. She tweaked her nipple, then the other one and then thrust her hand between her legs. The denim gusset was hot as flame, and wet too. Around her, the rhythms had increased pace. Little wet sounds, rapid rubbing, loud moans and whispered expletives. Claire popped the buttons on her jeans and tried to reach herself, but they were too tight. Frustrated, she raised her hips and slid the trousers down over her knees. She felt horribly exposed, but everyone else was doing the same. Shirts off, trousers around ankles, skirts up around waists. Her fingers found her cunt, it was as slippery as soap, her clit as rigid as a coathook. Two fingers of her left hand inside and spread, stroking the inner walls. Two fingers of her right hand finding a frantic rhythmic to rub on her clit. "Oh, fuck," she whimpered. As if everyone in the room had been waiting for her, she heard the masturbators get serious about their business. Skin slid over frenzied skin. Growls and grunts and a long low cry behind her as someone came. It was answered by another, and another. Dan next to her roared when it was his turn and she half expected - half wanted - to be showered by his cum, but he must have changed his direction. Amelia, whispering fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, was next, a blur of juicy noises, and then, when Graham, seated with his cock point directly at Claire, started to bellow, it was her turn too. "Oh, Jesus...fuck!" Her spread legs spasmed tight around her hands, her back arched upwards, her mouth stretched in an endless, voiceless grinn of pleasure. Eventually, her body relaxed and she could breath again. "And...lights." Graham's voice should have been a little more breathless than that. Amelia should not have been at the door to be able to operate the lights. Everyone should not be fully dressed and sitting up on the chairs as if this were an afternoon tea party and not, after all, a wanking orgy. They all stared at Claire. Stretched out on the floor with her hands glued to her sticky, exposed cunt and still weak from her orgasm. Some of them smiled, amused; some stared, aroused. Then they all burst into applause. Anger and shame added to the blush in her cheeks. She scrambled to dress herself with as much dignity as she could muster, and then without looking anyone in the eye, especially that bastard, Dan, stormed to the door. It was Graham who stopped her. "Claire." A gentle hand on her shoulder. "We told you it was a trust game. And we trust you now." She stared at him, wanted to slap him, not at all certain that she wasn't going to. "So, I passed, did I?" He nodded, and then took her arm. His eyes were alive with devilment. "And I've got just the part for an actress of your capabilities." She couldn't help dropping her eyes to his crotch, to the cock she'd so recently been fantasising about. "Just the part, eh?" Well, after all this, I'd better fucking get it." He grinned. "Don't worry. You will."